Sisters Together, Sisters Forever
by sunne
Summary: Evil takes many forms. When they come for you, just hope there is someone to speak for you. Written for the final round of the QLFC.


**Author's Note:** I am the Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. This is written for the Final Round of the QLFC. My prompt is that I have to take a famous line said by a character and have someone else say it The line I have is: "I did my waiting! Twelve years of it." - Sirius

 **Sisters Together, Sisters Forever**

 _First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—_

 _Because I was not a Socialist._

 _Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—_

 _Because I was not a Trade Unionist._

 _Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—_

 _Because I was not a Jew._

 _Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me._

-Martin Niemoller

oOo

1941

Hamburg, Germany

Brigit Wagner stood in the doorway, watching her parents argue. She didn't understand most of it, but she knew enough to know that something was wrong. Sticking her thumb in her mouth, she hugged her stuffed Hippogriff to her chest and watched her father pace from one end of the sitting room to the other.

Her father stopped his pacing. "Helga, do you realize what you are asking of me?" He gestured angrily at his wife. "It doesn't matter that we are magical. We do not need the SS knocking at our door."

Her mother made a noise of disdain in the back of her throat. "The SS? Really, Hans? We already have a Muggle repelling charm on our home," she said. "They are no danger to us."

"What about when we are outside? A charm will not protect us out on the street," he said, resuming his pacing. "What are we do to then? I will not stand for placing a target on our family." He gave her a firm look, one that said he would not budge on the subject.

She pointed her finger at him, eyes narrowing. "They are being persecuted, Hans," she said. "Are you comfortable just sitting here while our neighbors are being taken from their homes?" She pointed at the wall dividing their house from their neighbors'. "What about the Eisenbergs? Alexander has been your friend for years." Her face softened. "And think about little Sara."

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is not our war," he said, sounding tired. "We are not to interfere. Not to mention the risk of exposing ourselves and breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

Making a _tsk_ sound, her mother shook her head. "Do you have no humanity?" She gestured at Hans, lip curling. "This is not the man I married." With one last look, she turned her back on her husband and saw Brigit standing in the doorway. All anger disappeared from her face, and she knelt down. " _Mausi_ —my little mouse—come to me." She held out her arms.

Brigit went to her mother and was enveloped in the scent of vanilla and lemons.

oOo

Hans and Helga would argue back and forth for days, always in hissed whispers and behind doors, always away from tiny ears straining to hear. It wouldn't be until weeks later that Hans would find his hand forced.

It was early evening when he closed up the store. The sun was setting down on Erichstrasse, reflecting against the shop windows. Tucking his key in his coat pocket, Hans turned and walked up the cobblestone street, avoiding looking at those windows that had been shattered or painted over with crude messages. Rounding the corner, he could hear a commotion up Balduinstrasse. A woman was screaming.

"No, no! You've killed him." Ingrid Eisenberg struggled against the man restraining her and reached for the man lying on the ground.

Hans stopped in the middle of the street. It was not an uncommon scene. Ingrid lifted her eyes to meet his as the officer behind her shoved her forward, barking a rough order. On the ground, Alexander lay unmoving. Something in Hans' gut twisted, looking at his friend. He should say something, do something to prevent what was happening. But he would say nothing; he would do nothing. Hans closed his eyes, his wife's words running through his head.

 _Do you have no humanity?_

Shame was an ugly emotion. Opening his eyes, he looked at Ingrid.

Ingrid stared stared back at Hans, the moment in time stretching out. She glanced at the door to her home and then back at Hans as she was pulled away. Her mouth opened and formed silent words. The officer behind her covered her mouth with his hand, Ingrid's feet kicking as she tried to dig her heels into the ground. She reached out again, not for Alexander, but to the bashed open door to her home.

Two officers hauled Alexander to his feet, his head hanging limp, and tossed him into the back of the truck as Ingrid cried, her eyes wide and pleading. She mouthed words again, over and over.

 _Sara_.

Hans glanced at the truck, the officers climbing into the front seat, then at the door hanging off its hinges. As the truck started down the road, he stepped over the threshold, fingers brushing against the doorjamb. He had been in the Eisenberg's small flat a hundred times, and he knew it well. In the state it was currently in, Hans barely recognized the warm, but sparsely furnished space. Glancing at the door hanging wide open, he flicked his wand, warding the front entrance so any SS Officers wanting to have another search of the place would be deterred.

Wand lit, he stepped over the overturned sofa, reaching down to put the side table right again. Hans paused.

"Sara," he said. "You can come out now, love. The bad men have gone."

He waited for an answer but received only silence. Sara was the same age as Brigit, and the thought made Hans' heart throb. Remaining still, he strained his hearing, but could hear nothing. Without another thought, he shifted, his body shrinking down into that of a small dog. Ears perked, Hans put his nose to the ground, sniffing and listening. It wasn't hard to find Sara's hiding place. He followed the scent of raspberry jam—the girl's favorite food—to the kitchen. It lead him right under the table where he nosed at the rug, faint sounds of cries audible to his canine ears. Shifting back to his human form, he pushed the table and rug out of the way. The wooden floor appeared normal and unmodified, but Hans knew better.

Alexander Eisenberg, the best craftsman in Hamburg, prided himself on his seamless joints. Running his fingers along the wood, he found the small divot he knew would be there. Digging his fingernail into it, there was a small click. Hans pulled the hidden door open and peered down into the darkness, wand light illuminating the small space Alexander had felt the need to build beneath his kitchen. Down in the darkness, a pair of brown eyes looked up at Hans, hands reaching up.

"You are safe now," he said, lifting Sara out of the hiding space. He brushed dirt from her dress and wiped his thumb across a red, sticky stain on the side of her mouth. Sara stared at Hans with wide, tear-stained eyes. Picking her up, he carried her back through the destroyed house. Something in him unfolded as Sara clung to him, something that told him he was already too involved. There was no going back now.

oOo

1948

Liverpool, England

Sara Eisenberg shrieked and whirled around the tree, dashing off across the yard. Behind her, Brigit gave chase, her paper birthday crown falling from her head. The two girls careened around the yard after each other until Sara pushed through the back door and into the kitchen. Giggling, she dove under the kitchen table as Brigit followed close behind. She paused in the middle of the kitchen, still and silent, her mouth pulling into a grin. Sara covered her mouth with her hand and watched. Turning slowly, Brigit was just about to duck under the tablecloth when there was a tap at the window.

Brigit turned and moved to the window to let in the owl waiting outside. It swooped in and dropped a letter on the kitchen table.

Sara poked her head out from beneath the table. "Is that it?" Her brown hair had come undone from its fastenings and hung half in her face.

Excited, Brigit tore into the letter, Sara watching over her shoulder.

Nudging her sister, Sara giggled. "Golly, you're a witch!"

Brigit gave her sister a smart look. "Well, I knew that," she said, flipping the parchment over and glancing at the table in disappointment. "Yours didn't come."

Sara patted her sister on the shoulder and grinned. "I am a Muggle, you know," she said.

Brigit gave her a cautious look.

Sara shrugged. "So, I'm a Muggle. I don't mind." She paused and glanced at her sister before adding, "Do you?"

Grabbing her, Brigit hugged the other girl. "You are my sister in every meaning of the word," she said. "Of course I don't."

A warm smile formed on Sara's face. "Sisters together."

Brigit tightened her grip on Sara. "Sisters forever."

oOo

1969

Ipswich, England

It was nearing ten o'clock at night when Brigit finally took a break. Groaning, she rubbed at her eyes and leaned back in her chair, her red marking quill dropping to her desk. The surface of her desk was covered in the current manuscript she was editing— _The Value of a Muggle: To Be Protected, Not Feared_ , by Mordicus Egg. The deadline was looming, and Brigit often found herself working late into the night just before a deadline. Sara always told her that procrastination was her middle name.

Heaving herself out of her chair, Brigit cursed her sore back and placed a protective hand over her pregnant belly. An approaching deadline _and_ eight months pregnant with her first child. She could hear Sara's voice in her head, chastising and mothering in the way only Sara could be without sounding overbearing. And, of course, Charles would be agreeing with her, sending Brigit knowing glances with those blue eyes Brigit had fallen in love with during her third year at Hogwarts. Brigit was a working witch, something Charles claimed to understand, but enjoyed worrying about.

Sighing, Brigit slowly made her way out of her office and into the small kitchenette. It was quiet, but there was a light on down the hall. Someone else was working late into the night under the threat of a deadline. Tapping the kettle with her wand, it began whistling as the water boiled instantly. As she reached up into the cabinet for a tea bag, a noise behind her had her turning.

It happened fast—so fast Brigit wasn't sure of what happened until she was already on the ground, a horrid ache slicing through her head. A man stood above her, a sneer across his pointed face. In the haze of pain, recognition tickled at the back of her head but drew up nothing. He leaned down, and Brigit cried out, trying to scramble away.

"No, no," she said, hands wrapped around her belly.

He grinned and drew his wand.

oOo

Three days later, Brigit watched Sara pace from one end of her bedroom to the other. Her hands rested on her stomach, her heart aching at the absence of the tiny life in her. It would have been a girl, she had been told. Sara, her sister in every way except blood, had attached herself to Brigit's side the moment she had been released from St. Mungo's—even going so far as to shoo Charles out of the room. Granted, it had given Brigit time to tell Sara what she wanted her to do, but there were consequences for making demands.

"I will not. I refuse." Sara stopped, gave Brigit a pointed look and folded her arms. "You cannot make me." She lifted her chin in a display of stubbornness.

Closing her eyes, Brigit pinched the bridge of her nose. That night ran through and through her head, an endless loop of memory. She did not remember much beyond the first curse, but she had heard reports of what had been written on the wall of her office. It wasn't the words that struck Brigit with a gut-twisting fear—it was the man behind them.

"I fear for your safety," Brigit told her sister. "You must."

Sara laughed. " _You_ fear for _my_ safety? You are the one who was attacked." She shook her head. "I will not leave England, Brigit."

"You are a Muggle."

"And?" Sara frowned.

Brigit opened her mouth but no words came out. Instead, tears ran down her face. She covered her face, unable to block out the words _Muggle Lover_ written in her own blood on her office wall. The pointed face of her attacker hovered in the back of her mind. She hadn't been able to place his name at the time, but Brigit had since had enough time to dwell over the facts. The Aurors had gently prodded her to reveal his name, but she had feigned ignorance. Abraxus Malfoy was a man to be feared.

A hand wiped gently at her face, and she opened her eyes. Sara hovered close, concern in her eyes. " _Mausi_ ," she said, using Brigit's childhood nickname. "What are you so afraid of?"

oOo

February 1981

West Virginia

"No, no, no." Sara paced from one end of her kitchen to the other. She held a letter in one hand and nibbled the thumbnail of the other. Stopping, she scanned the letter again, shaking her head. "I can't believe it." Her hand trembled, and she resumed her pacing.

Her husband, Richard, hovered near the counter. He was dressed for work, briefcase resting on the counter beside him. When the large bird had delivered the letter in Sara's hand, she had let out a strangled cry upon reading it. Over the years, letters had arrived via one owl or another, and the story of Sara and her magical sister had unwoven itself in time. With each letter came the gut-sinking dread and then the bubble of relief as Sara learned Brigit was still alive and well.

Until this morning.

Color had drained from Sara's face the moment she scanned the contents of the letter. Sobs pushed against her throat, getting stuck. She gasped.

"Honey." Her husband took Sara by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "Take a deep breath," he said.

"Don't tell me—" Sara closed her eyes and shook, holding her breath to be rebellious. Richard sighed and ran his hand down her face. Her next words came out as a whisper. "I had told her dozens of times over the years to get out, that it isn't worth her life. All she told me was to wait, to wait it out." Her voice broke. "I did my waiting. Twelve years of it!"

Sara sank to the floor, Richard holding her close. She screamed and sobbed and cursed until her voice was raw. Face pressed into her husband's chest, she let out one last sob. "And now my sister is dead."

oOo

November 1981

Hogwarts

"Sara Eisenberg—though it is now Goldstein, right?"

Sara turned and looked at the witch standing beside her. She wore a set of green robes, and, though the look on her face was stern, there was kindness behind her eyes—kindness and sorrow.

"That is right," she said.

"Minerva McGonagall," the witch said, introducing herself. "Albus told me to expect your attendance."

After the memorial service for those who had died or been lost, Sara stood on the grounds that surrounded the magical castle her sister had attended when they were girls. She held a blue flower in one hand—a forget-me-not, Brigit's favorite flower. Witches and wizards surrounded her, the robes and cloaks Sara had been so familiar with growing up acting as a painful reminder of what she had lost. When Albus Dumbledore had sent her the invitation, insisting that Brigit would want her to attend, Sara had not thought twice.

Minerva looked out at the crowd of witches and wizards before glancing at Sara. "I went to school with your sister. We were housemates." She smiled. "She spoke of you often—you were everything to her."

A knot of pain formed in Sara's chest. "I miss her more with each day." She took a deep breath to quell the rising grief and clutched at the flower in her hand. "When I was a little girl in Germany, my family was taken during the second World War. I was saved by Brigit's family." Glancing at the ground, she closed her eyes. "Her family is the reason I am not dead." Looking up, she met the witch's eyes. "It kills me that I was not able to do the same for her."

Frowning, Minerva placed a hand on Sara's arm. "We have lost a lot over the years," she said. "But time marches on, and so must we."

As Minerva walked away, Sara knelt down by one of the memorial stones. She set the blue forget-me-not down along with the others people had laid down. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, she pressed them to the memorial stone and whispered, "Sisters together, sisters forever."


End file.
